America


My country, 'tis of Thee, 
Sweet Land of Liberty 
Of thee I sing; 
Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the pilgrims' pride, 
From every mountain side 
Let Freedom ring. 


My native country, thee, 
Land of the noble free, 
Thy name I love; 
I love thy rocks and rills, 
Thy woods and templed hills, 
My heart with rapture thrills 
Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 
Sweet Freedom's song; 
Let mortal tongues awake; 
Let all that breathe partake; 
Let rocks their silence break, 
The sound prolong. 

Our fathers' God to Thee, 
Author of Liberty, 
To thee we sing, 
Long may our land be bright 
With Freedom's holy light, 
Protect us by thy might 
Great God, our King. 

Our glorious Land to-day, 
'Neath Education's sway, 
Soars upward still. 
Its hills of learning fair, 
Whose bounties all may share, 
Behold them everywhere 
On vale and hill! 

Thy safeguard, Liberty, 
The school shall ever be, 
Our Nation's pride! 
No tyrant hand shall smite, 
While with encircling might 
All here are taught the Right 
With Truth allied. 

Beneath Heaven's gracious will 
The stars of progress still 
Our course do sway; 
In unity sublime 
To broader heights we climb, 
Triumphant over Time, 
God speeds our way! 

Grand birthright of our sires, 
Our altars and our fires 
Keep we still pure! 
Our starry flag unfurled, 
The hope of all the world, 
In peace and light impearled, 
God hold secure! 


------------------------------------------------------------------------

God Bless America by Irving Berlin

"While the storm clouds gather far across the sea, 
Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free, 
Let us all be grateful for a land so fair, 
As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer. 

God Bless America. 
Land that I love 
Stand beside her, and guide her 
Thru the night with a light from above. 
From the mountains, to the prairies , 
To the oceans, white with foam 
God bless America 
My home sweet home



------------------------------------------------------------------------

America, the Beautiful


O beautiful for spacious skies, 
For amber waves of grain, 
For purple mountain majesties 
Above the fruited plain. 
America! America! God shed His grace on thee, 
And crown thy good with brotherhood 
From sea to shining sea. 
O beautiful for pilgrim feet, 
Whose stern impassion'd stress 
A thoroughfare for freedom beat 
Across the wilderness. 
America! America! God men thine ev'ry flaw, 
Confirm thy soul in self-control, 
Thy liberty in law. 

O beautiful for heroes prov'd 
In liberating strife, 
Who more than self their country loved, 
And mercy more than life. 
America! America! May God thy gold refine 
Till all success be nobleness, 
And ev'ry grain divine. 

O Beautiful for patriot dream 
that sees beyond the years. 
Thine alabaster cities gleam, 
Undimmed by human tears. 
America! America! God shed his grace on thee, 
And crown thy good with brotherhood, 
From sea to shining sea. 



------------------------------------------------------------------------

Battle Hymn of the Republic


Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: 
His truth is marching on. 

I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; 
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; 
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; 
His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel: 
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, 
Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat; 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet! 
Our God is marching on. 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me: 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 

by Julia Ward Howe

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------




Back to the Poetry Page